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Nec-Natama 

The  Grove  Play 

BOHEMIAN  CLUB 


NEC-NATAMA 


(COMRADESHIP) 


A  FOREST  PLAY 


Text  by  J.  WILSON  SHIELS 
Music  by  UDA  WALDROP 


Being  the  Thirty-seventh  Annual  Midsummer  High  Jinks 
of  the  Bohemian  Club  of  San  Francisco  and  the  Twelfth 
Grove  Play,  as  enacted  by  Members  of  the  Club  at 
the  Bohemian  Grove  in  Sonoma  County,  California,  the 
Eighth  Night  of  August,  Nineteen  Hundred  £&>  Fourteen 


Press  of 

The  Blair-Murdock  Company 


DRAMATIS  PERSONAE 


277591 


PROLOGUE 


Priest  Fred  Herr 

White  Man A.  Joullin 

Love- Woman  Harris  Allen 

Hate- Woman  Geo.  de  Long 

Torturers Harry  Bates,  Capt.  Jack  Fletcher 

Fire  Lighters A.  F.  Lawton,  C.  Bundschu 

Spear  Thrower J.  Landfield 

Arrow  Aimer Stewart  Rawlings 

Knife  Man. .  G.  S.  Pomeroy 


War-dancers: 

D.  G.  Volkmann 
W.  G.  Volkmann 
Gurney  Newlin 
H.  A.  Schmidt 
Frank  Owen 
Dean   Witter 
Challen  Parker 
A.  C.  Parsons 
L.  T.  Ryone 

Other  Hate  Braves: 

C.  H.  Lamberton 
Irving  Lundborg 
Geo.  Stoddard 
Capt.  Brees 


M.  B.  Bowman 
A.  C.  Nahl 
R.  Schilling 
D.  S.  Clinton 
F.  G.  Noyes 
T.  C.  Van  Ness 
Roy  Somers 
Ralston  White 
C.  A.  Gilbert 


S.  Haskins 

Lt.  Com.  Woodward 

F.  Findley 


PLAY-PROPER 


LOVE-LONGING  INDIANS: 

They  who  long  for  the  return  of  the  Love-Woman.  They 
are  delicate  in  type  and  contrast  the  Hate -Indians,  who 
follow  the  Great-Hate  Chief  and  live  in  Strife. 

Great  High  Priest,  Ralph  L.  Phelps. 
Aged  Priest,  H.  McD.  Spencer. 
First  Priest,  E.  T.  Houghton. 
Second  Priest,  Francis  Bruguiere. 
Third  Priest,  H.  B.  Blatchly. 
Fourth  Priest,  W.  Robinson. 
Priest  with  Song,  C.  Bulotti. 

First  Guard  of  the  Sacred  Rock,  Scott  Hendricks. 
Second  Guard  of  the  Sacred  Rock,  E.  L.  Taylor. 
The  Neophyte,  A.  W.  Sperry. 


Chorus: 


C.  E.  Anderson 
A.  A.  Arbogast 
R.  M.  Battison 
C.  Bundschu 
C.  W.  Burks 
P.  S.  Carlton 
R.  L.  Countryman 
W.  W.  Davis 
T.  G.  Elliott 
C.  E.  Engvick 
C.  J.  Evans 
G.  Farley 
R.  E.  Fisher 
Oscar  Frank 
P.  D.  Gaskill 
W.  E.  Hague 


A.  F.  Lawton 
E.  C.  Little 
R.  I.  Lynas 
E.  H.  McCandlish 
H.  McCurrie 
M.  McCurrie 
John  McEwing 
W.  A.  Mitchell 
P.  J.  Mohr 
W.  P.  Nielsen 
Wm.  Olney 
C.  D.  Pinkham 
G.  Purlenky 
G.  D.  Reynolds 
J.  J.  Rhea 
E.  W.  Roland 


J.  R.  Harry 
R.  B.  Heath 
A.  G.  Heunisch 
Wm.  Hooke 
R.  E.  G.  Keene 
W.  R.  Kneiss 
M.  O.  Williams 
R.  L.  Oliver 


Benj.  Romaine 
J.  D.  Ruggles 
C.  A.  Smith 
B.  M.  Stitch 
Mark  White 
F.  E.  Wilkins 
A.  Y.  Wood 
H.  Perry 


HATE-INDIANS: 

They  follow  Hate  and  Strife  and  show  no  fellowship. 

Great-Hate    Chief Wm.   P.   Horn 

Second   Chief R.   M.   Hotaling 

The  Silent  One Frank  Corbusier 

The  Runner J.  B.  Brady 

Guard  of  the  River  Trail Ben  Stitch 

Guard  of  the  Trail  of  the  Setting  Sun 

. .  C.   H.   Lamberton 


War-dancers: 

D.  G.  Volkmann 
W.  G.  Volkmann 
Gurney  Newlin 
H.  A.  Schmidt 
Frank  Owen 
Dean  Witter 
Challen  Parker 
A.  C.  Parsons 
L.  T.  Ryone 

Other  Hate-Braves: 
Harry  Bates 
Capt.  Brees 
F.  Findley 
Harris  Allen 
Capt.  Harry  Howland 
Geo.  Stoddard 
S.  Haskins 


M.  B.  Bowman 
A.  C.  Nahl 
R.  Schilling 
D.  S.  Clinton 
F.  G.  Noyes 
T.  C.  Van  Ness 
Roy  Somers 
Ralston  White 
C.  A.  Gilbert 


Stewart  Rawlings 
E.  B.  Pomeroy 
Jack  Fletcher 
Lt.  Com.  Woodward 
J.  Landfield 
Irving  Lundborg 


Indian  Boys — Philip  Beckeart,  Jr.,  Willie  Shiels. 
8 


HIDDEN  SINGERS: 

"The  Song  of  the  Grove,"  Mackenzie  Gordon. 
"The  Song  of  the  Stake,"  Mackenzie  Gordon. 
"Tree-Top  Song,"  selected  members  of  chorus. 

THE  WATER-SPIRITS: 

"Dance  of  the  Pool" 

(Produced  by  Geo.  B.  de  Long.) 

Geo.  B.  de  Long  A.  J.  Hayes 

Geo.  Hammersmith  A.  W.  Hamilton 

Geo.  C.  Leib  Russell  L.  Countryman 

Tracy  Cummings  Geo.  L.  Bell 

T.  W.  Humphreys  J.  G.  Melvin 

Chas.  F.  Manness  J.  C.  Carlyon 

S.  P.  Hamilton  Louis  Mooser 

Wm.  F.  Leib  Harold  Brayton 

Curtis  Tuttle  E.  Howard  Baxter 

A.  T.  Gibson  J.  R.  Davis 

A.  S.  Humphreys  R.  C.  Melvin 

Shelby  Cummings  W.  C.  Hammon 

WHITE  MEN: 

The  Dreamer Marshall  Darrach 

First   Woodsman Bush   Finnell 

Second  Woodsman Jos.  Thompson 

Third  Woodsman Ralph  Sloan 

MAIDEN-OF-THE-GENTLE-PEOPLE: 
Harold  Baxter. 

THE  LOVE-WOMAN: 
Harris  Allen. 


Stage  Director Frank  L.  Mathieu 

Masters   of    Lighting   and    Illumination 

Edward  J.  Duffey,  Vincent  Duff ey 

Designer  of   Costumes Amedee   Joullin 

Stage  Setting.  .George  Lyon,  William  Bryant,  Courtney  Ford 

Director  of  Water  Spirit  Dance George  B.  DeLong 

Properties Harry  P.  Carlton,  Harry  Stonda 

Conductor Uda    Waldrop 

Concert   Master A.    Hoffmann 

Chorus   Master..  ..E.  D.   Crandall 


10 


PROLOGUE 


THE  VICTORY  OF  HATE  AND  STRIFE 


TIME 
Long  ago. 

PLACE 
A  redwood  forest. 

A  waterfall  flows  down  the  wooded  hillside,  over  a  huge 
rock  and  ends  splashing  in  a  pool.  When  the  world  was 
created,  so  runs  the  Indian  faith,  Great-Hand  fashioned  his 
features  upon  the  rock,  and  it  was  made  sacred;  then  the  pool 
mirrored  his  face  and  was  made  holy.  Once,  in  the  dead  past, 
a  mighty  wind  laid  low  a  tree.  It  fell  to  the  hillside,  over  the 
Sacred  Rock. 

From  the  hill-top  to  the  glade  below  flowers  bloom  in  radi 
ant  beauty  and  faintly  fill  the  air  with  sweet  scent.  The  birds 
sing  and  all  is  bathed  in  summer  light. 

ACTION 

Suddenly  this  fair  place  is  flooded  with  Indians.  They  start 
an  irregular  torture  dance  and  are  frenzied  with  the  desire  to 
impart,  to  the  faggots,  their  hate.  A  white  man  is  dragged 
before  them.  He  is  noble  and,  mindless  of  all  this  intense 
throbbing  hate,  gazes  in  adoration  at  the  trees  and  the  beauty 
of  the  summer  scene.  By  gesture  he  shows  his  love  of  nature 
and  gives  his  fellowship  and  forgiveness.  The  Indian  priest, 
seated  upon  the  rock-throne,  will  have  none  of  it  and  com 
mands  the  impatient  Indians  to  proceed  with  the  torture. 
They  take  him,  with  hate-haste,  to  the  blackened  torture 
stake  and  there  they  lash  him;  some  blaze  the  fire;  others 
leap  into  the  dance. and  carry  the  faggots  back  to  the  flames; 
others  fill  rude  cups  at  the  waterfall  and  either  hold  them 
just  outside  their  victim's  reach,  or  dash  the  water  to  the 
ground;  others  try  to  spear  him,  but  the  spear-heads  blunt 
and  fall  at  every  thrust;  others  endeavor  to  shoot  arrows  at 
the  martyr,  but  the  bow-strings  break.  They  stand  amazed 
and  try  again.  The  squaws  gloat  and  incite  further  deviltry. 

13 


Great  is  the  wrong  they  do  this  man,  this  lover  of  all  things 
beautiful,  and  lo!  the  spiritual  Love-Woman  of  the  tribe 
(fragile  in  form,  delicate  of  feature,  clothed  in  simple  white, 
a  white  eagle's  feather  in  her  hair)  comes  out  of  the  waters, 
over  the  fallen  tree  and  gives  her  love  to  him.  She  stands 
motionless,  with  arms  out-stretched  as  if  holding  a  cup  filled 
to  overflowing  with  her  love.  The  eyes  of  the  man  at  the 
stake  lights  with  understanding  and  by  expression  tells  her 
that  he  takes  the  full  measure  of  her  love.  The  Indian 
priest,  following  the  eye  of  the  white  man,  sees  this  goddess 
of  tribe-love  and  with  a  wild  fling  of  his  arms  commands  th:s 
Indians  to  cease  the  dance  and  to  put  out  the  fire;  for  love 
has  entered  the  victim.  They,  for  a  moment,  go  on  with  the 
torture  and  the  priest  again  commands,  pointing  the  while 
at  the  Love- Woman;  at  last  it  is  given  to  them  to  see  her 
and  they  obey.  They  are  panic-stricken  with  wild  terror  and 
in  their  hurry  burn  themselves,  showing  this  by  blowing  on 
their  hands,  running  to  the  waterfall,  plunging  their  arms  into 
it,  covering  their  eyes  and  showing  pains,  while  they  beat 
down  the  fire.  The  flames  are  out.  The  Love- Woman  stands 
entranced  and  with  joy  seems  about  to  return  to  the  waters 
to  live  again,  unseen,  among  her  people.  The  Indians  cut 
free  the  man  from  the  stake  and  lead  him  (in  white  light, 
untouched  by  the  fire)  to  the  rock-throne  and  proclaim  him 
chief,  for  a  god  has  come  to  woo  him.  They  gaze  in  super 
stitious  awe  while  he  lifts  his  arms  to  Heaven.  The  Indians 
bend  down  before  him.  All  seems  well,  but  the  Hate- Woman 
enters.  She  is  all  sinuous  movement,  strong,  coarsely  beauti 
ful  and  boldly  ornamented  with  clanging  jewelry.  She  leaps 
at  the  Love- Woman,  who,  fearing,  flies  up  the  trail,  her  black 
hair  flowing  in  the  wind,  and  with  a  despairing  gesture  from 
her  outspread  arms  vanishes  from  the  grove.  The  Hate- 
Woman  stands  supreme.  The  white  chief  turns  to  bless  Love 
upon  the  trail  when  lo!  the  Hate- Woman  meets  his  eye. 
She  dances  and  holds  out  her  permissive  arms.  He  is  fascin 
ated,  he  hesitates,  control  is  yet  within  him.  But  at  last, 
throwing  away  his  reverent  mien  and  dashing  aside  the  wor 
shipping  Indians,  who  seek  to  stay  him,  he  strides  roughly 
towards  her  while  she  waits  for  him,  confident  with  the  pride 

14 


of  victory.  When  he  reaches  her  and  just  as  he  is  about  to 
take  her  in  his  arms,  the  grove  is  thrown  into  complete 
darkness. 

Love  has  left  the  grove  and  the  doom  has  come. 

He  has  thrown  away  Conscience  and  Hate  is  triumphant. 

The  waterfall  no  longer  flows. 

The  flowers  fade. 

The  birds  are  still. 

All  is  gloom  within  the  glade. 


FINIS 


15 


RESUME  OF    PROLOGUE 

1.  There  is  no  curtain  and  the  overture  is  played  in  full 
view  of  the  audience.     This  is  quite  consistent;  for  the 
prologue  is  a  moving  picture  without  the  camera,  and  it 
is  therefore  proper  to  show  the  field  of  action  for  some 
time  before  the  act  begins. 

2.  Torture  theme. 

3.  Entrance  of  torture  Indians.    Dance  of  torture. 

4.  Leaping  for  the  faggots. 

5.  Entrance  of  the  white  man  and  the  Indian  priest;  fol 
lowed  by  others. 

6.  The  white  man's  declaration  of  fellowship.     Fellowship 
theme. 

7.  The  refusal  of  the  Indian  priest.    Torture  theme. 

6.   The  torture  of  the  white  man: 

a.  The  miracle  of  the  spear-heads. 

b.  The  miracle  of  the  bow-strings. 

c.  The  miracle  of  the  flames. 
Torture  theme. 

9.   The  entrance  of  the  Love- Woman.    The  love  theme. 

10.  The   giving   and   receiving   of   love   between    the    Love- 
Woman  and  the  white  man.     Love  theme. 

11.  The    Indian    priest's   knowledge    of    the    Love- Woman's 
presence.     Love  theme. 

12.  The   torture   Indians'  knowledge  of  the  Love- Woman's 
presence.    Love  theme. 

13.  General  adoration  of  the  Love-Woman. 

14.  Sudden  action  of  subduing  the  flames. 

16 


15.  Liberation  of  the  white  man.    His  descent  from  the  stake. 
The  allegiance  of  the  Indians.    Fellowship  theme. 

16.  Entrance  of  the  Hate-Woman.    Hate  theme. 

17.  The  flight  of  the  Love  Woman.    Her  exit.    Music. 

18.  The  dance  of  the  Hate- Woman.    Music. 

19.  The  fascination  of  the  white  man. 

20.  The  lowering  of  all  lights.    The  fading  of  flowers.    The 
cessation  of  the  waterfall  over  the  Sacred  Rock. 

21.  The  flight  of  Conscience  from  the  white  man. 

22.  The  white  man's  dash  up  the  hill  to  the  Hate- Woman. 

23.  Darkness. 


FINIS 


17 


THE  PLAY 


THE  VICTORY  OF  LOVE  AND  FELLOWSHIP 


TIME 
Mid-day,  long  ago. 

SCENE 

As  in  the  prologue,  but  without  sunlight.  All  is  gloom 
within  the  glade.  Unkind  time  has  been  at  work.  All  is 
sullen.  The  black  stake  stands  in  the  ashes  of  past  tortures. 
The  hill-side  is  peopled  with  busy  Hate-Indians.  They  make 
bows,  arrows  and  spears.  A  squaw  is  seen  weaving  a  war 
head-dress;  another  is  dipping  arrow-heads  Into  a  poison- 
brew.  Each  has  his  own  little  fire  of  dried  willows.  The 
thin  smoke  of  the  fires,  to  say  nothing  of  the  characteristic 
odor  of  the  willow-smoke,  will  add  to  the  quality  of  the  scene. 

On  the  lower  stage,  near  the  Sacred  Pool,  are  two  Love- 
Longing  Indians;  one,  an  aged  priest,  the  other  a  neophyte. 
They  crouch  near  the  water's  edge  and  are  in  deep  sadness. 
Nearby,  to  the  left  of  them,  are  two  guards  of  the  Sacred 
Pool;  they  are  less  devout. 


THE  GROVE  SONG. 

(Sung  off  stage.} 

To-night  the  tree-tops  listen  tense. 

The  forest  deep,  in  reverence, 

The  moon-beams  shine  with  constant  glow. 

The  Grove  Song  is  so  sad  and  low. 

The  birds  are  still.     The  flowers  yearn. 

Ah!  Love.     They  wait  for  your  return. 

The  drooping  flowers  fall  and  fade. 
And  all  is  gloom  within  the  glade. 
They  long  to  live  in  love  again. 
Yet  all  is  whisp'ring  hate  and  pain. 
Birds  listen  sadly  in  the  leaves. 
Ah!  Love.    Fly  back  upon  the  breeze. 

(Pause.} 

21 


(This  is  followed  by  incidental  music,  during  which  two  Indian 
boys  bound  forth  upon  an  upper  trail,  running  here  and 
there  in  vicious  play.  They  separate  and  chase  each  other 
until  they  spy  the  Love-Longing  Indians  at  the  Sacred  Pool. 
They  pause  and  plot  in  whispers;  then  with  cunning  and  un 
der  cover,  they  sneak  to  within  throwing  distance  and  cast 
a  stone  into  the  Holy  Pool.  Incidental  music  ceases.  They 
run  off  laughing  through  the  woods.  This  action  startles 
the  Love-Longing  Indians.) 

First  Guard    (Lifts  his  spear  to  aim  and  slay.) 
Aged  Priest: 

Kill  not! 
First  Guard    (Still  aiming)  : 

They  foul  the  Holy  Pool. 
Second  Guard: 

Fast  they  run.     Try  no  more.     If  they  come 
again    (drawing  an  arrow)    they     will     not 
grow  to  follow  the  Great-Hate  Chief. 
(Walks  down  stage,  right  center.) 
Neophyte: 

Let     all     things    live.     So     orders     the     High 

Priest. 
First  Guard    (Pointing  to  the  workers  on  the  hill)  : 

See.     They  live  to  kill. 
Aged  Priest: 

Hot  is  their  war-blood. 
Second  Guard: 

They  hunt  well.     To  trail  elk  and  deer  is  bet 
ter  than  to  gather  acorns. 
Neophyte: 

We   hunt   far   to   gather   nuts.     Here   nothing 

grows. 
(Pointing  to  the  Holy  Pool.) 

See.     No    lilies   live.      Why    is    this? 

Aged  Priest: 

The  Great  Spirit  is  angry. 

Neophyte: 

Tell  of  this. 

22 


Aged  Priest: 

Many  moons  ago.  Not  within  the  time  of 
three  tribes.  A  great  spirit,  the  Love- 
Woman,  dwelt  with  the  lilies  in  this  Holy 
Pool.  No  brave  had  sight  of  her.  Un 
seen  she  created  Love  and  gave  it  to  our 
people.  Unseen,  called  the  sun  to  grow 
the  flowers.  Unseen,  made  flowers  give 
up  heavy  scent  to  twilight  air.  Unseen, 
called  love-light  to  the  moon.  So,  by  love 
alone,  our  people  were  made  ready  for 
the  Mighty  One.  All  praised  her.  All 
was  peace,  power  and  just  vengeance. 
When,  lo!  she  fled. 

(Pause.) 

All   was    changed. 

(Pause.) 

We  watch  for  her  return. 

Neophyte:    (With  reverence)  : 

I  watch! 

(Crouches  at  the  pool.) 
Second  Guard  (Pointing  with  his  spear  to  Hate-Indians)  : 

They  do  not  watch. 

Aged  Priest: 

They  have  no  faith.  They  are  Hate-braves. 
They  follow  the  Great-Hate  Chief. 

First  Guard: 

I  followed  once. 

Second  Guard: 

And  I.     Big  war-man.     Good  chief  for  us. 

Aged  Priest: 

No.     He  runs  wild. 

Neophyte: 

He  is  like  the  panther,  all  strength  and  fight. 

He  hastes  for  blood. 
First  Guard    (Excusingly)  : 

No  one  finds  food,  or  foe,  if  keen  he  seeks  not. 
Does  the  hound  kill  the  deer,  if  he  scent 
like  the  village  dog? 

23 


Second  Guard: 

If  they  fight  he  fights  back.     It  is  good  for  the 

tribe  that  he  hates  keen. 
Aged  Priest: 

Hate  is  good  to  guard  life.  Hate  is  bad  to 
make  fight,  without  cause.  The  Great- 
Hate  Chief  travels  far  to  make  fight.  So 
the  Great  Spirit  is  angry  and  the  Love- 
Woman  has  fled.  Heard  you  the  Grove 
Song? 
Second  Guard: 

No.    When?    I  hear  not  the  Spirits.    I  am  no 

priest. 
Aged  Priest: 

Yet  you  hear  and  see  nature. 
(Pause.) 

Is  this  summer? 

Second  Guard: 

Yes. 

Aged  Priest: 

Comes  the  same  sun-god  to  all  lands? 

Second  Guard: 

True. 

Aged  Priest: 

The  seasons  are  the  same? 

Second  Guard: 

Good. 

Aged  Priest: 

Then  look  and  know.     Grey  light  fills  this  for 
est;  sunlight  floods  the  Love-land.     Here 
no  flowers  grow;  they  bloom  full,  in  Love- 
land.     Listen!     Hear  you  the  Bird-song? 
(Pause.) 

It  is  singing  strong,  in  Love-land. 

(Picking  up  some  dry  grass.) 

Lol  the  grass  dies;  the  God-of-cloud-and-rain 
grows  waving  grain,  in  Love-land.  Look! 
the  waters  flow  weak  and  shallow,  they 
fall  with  little  splash. 

24 


(Suddenly  with  arms  out-stretched  he  prays.} 

Oh  God-of-sudden-dawn!     Where  are  the  wa 
ters? 
(Pauses  as  if  hearing  an  answer.') 

Gone,  by  secret  ways  to  charm  the  Love-land. 
We  feel  the  shadows'  gloom,  they  breed 
fellowship,  in  Love-land.     The  Great  Spirit 
is  angry.     I  have  spoken. 
Second  Guard  (Somewhat  impressed}  : 

Will  the  Love- Woman  fly  back? 

Aged  Priest: 

It  is  so  told. 

First  Guard: 

When,  O  priest? 

Aged  Priest: 

When  human  love  comes  victor  to  a  Great- 
Hate  Chief. 

First  Guard: 

All  fear  this  chief.  Fear  makes  a  poor  fight. 
How  then  may  pure  love  come  to  him? 

Aged  Priest: 

Great  is  the  Mighty  One.  Pray  that  He  send 
a  gentle  maiden,  brave  with  the  power 
of  love. 

Neophyte : 

Tell.    Why  did  the  Love- Woman  fly? 

Aged  Priest: 

She  gave  love  to  a  pale  face,  making  him  a 
chief.  The  Evil-One  sent  the  Hate- Wom 
an  to  fight  her.  The  Hate- Woman  won. 
The  Love-Woman  fled.  Then  did  the 
white  chief  throw  away  Control  and  breed 
with  Hate,  and  Strife  was  born. 

Neophyte: 

If  love  comes  to  this  our  chief,  how  will  the 
Love- Woman  know? 

25 


Aged  Priest: 

Love  will  call  Conscience  to  its  home.  For 
love  is  the  home  of  Conscience.  And  Con 
science  will  call  the  Spirit-Woman  back. 
She  will  hear.  Then  will  the  grove  grant 
fellowship  to  all. 
Neophyte: 

How  will  Conscience  come? 
Aged  Priest: 

I  know  not.  Now  is  the  moon-time-of-falling- 
leaf.  The  High  Priest  comes  to  seek  a 
sapling  at  this  torture-stake.  For  it  is 
told: 

"When,  from  a  hidden  trunk,  a  tender 

sapling  grows; 
All   the   living  world  will   know,  what 

Strength   to   Weakness   owes." 
Then  shall  we  know  Control. 
Second  Guard  (Running  up  to  the  stake)  : 

No  sapling  here. 

First  Guard    (Sneers  and  turns  away)  : 
Aged  Priest     (To  the  guard)  : 

Sneer  not.    He  who  seeks  and  shows  his  teeth 

never  finds. 
Second  Guard  (Looking  off,  right)  : 

The  High  Priest  comes! 

(Enter  a  goodly  number  of  Love-Longing  Indians,  for  the  most 
part  pipe-players  and  converts  from  the  Hate-Indians.    They 
cross  left  and:) 
Omnes: 

Hail!  O  Medicine-man. 
Reader  of  moon  and  sun. 
Hail!  O  patient  priest. 
Slave  of  the  Mighty-One. 

(The  High  Priest  enters.     He  takes  his  place  upon  the  throne. 
He  returns  the  acclaim  with  a  sign.) 

Neophyte:    (At  the  stake,  excited)  : 

O  High  Priest!     No  sign  of  sapling  here. 

26 


High  Priest    (With  some  annoyance)  : 

Approach. 
(Neophyte  jumps  from  the  stake  and  kneels.) 

Break     not     the     coming     ceremony.       Your 
tongue  is  young.     Listen,  learn,  have  faith. 
(The  Neophyte  is  properly  subdued.     Yet  he  is  very  reverent 
and  kneels,  taking  this  as  just  censure.) 

Aged  Priest: 

Master-of-mystery,     we     have     watched     the 

Sacred  Throne. 
(Turning  to  the  others.) 

All   hail!     The   High   Priest!     The   Priest   of 

Love  is  great  and  he  alone! 
Omnes     (Ferly  solemnly)  : 

Hail! 
High  Priest: 

Comes  now  the  moon-time-of-falling-leaf.  The 
mist  rests  on  the  river.  Hear  the  story-of- 
the-stake. 

(CEREMONY  OF  THE  STAKE.) 

(The  pipe-players  gather  round  the  Holy  Pool.  The  Assistant 
Priests  squat  down  and  form  a  semi-circle,  from  the  High 
Priest  to  about  the  center  of  the  stage.  Others  stand  behind 
them,  facing  the  High  Priest,  with  their  backs  to  the  left 
lower  entrance.  The  Neophyte  stands  at  the  foot  of  the 
rock  throne.  The  Hate-Indians,  on  the  hill,  cease  their  work. 
Some  leave  the  stage,  having  no  interest  in  the  ceremony. 
Others  remain  and  listen,  listlessly.) 

(The  Pipe  refain  is  started;  weird  and  low.     The  High  Priest 
gives  a  sign.     The  First  Assistant  Priest  leaves  the  semi 
circle  and  goes  to  the  stake.     He  starts  a  slow  religious  dance 
around  it.    After  he  has  gone  once  round,  the  Second  Assist 
ant  Priest  does  likewise;  then  the  Third  Assistant  Priest;  then 
the  Fourth  Assistant  Priest,  until  all  four  are  slowly  dancing.) 
(The  flutes  continue  low.) 
First  Assistant  Priest     (Stepping  out  of  the  dance)  : 

Oh!     High  Priest  of  all  the  Love-tribe. 
Hearing  message  from  the  Great-One. 
Knowing  all  the  past  traditions. 
Solving  them  to  all  the  people. 
(Pause.) 

Speak! 

27 


(Steps  back  into  the  dance.) 

Second  Assistant  Priest  (Stepping  out  of  dance)  : 

Mouthpiece  of  the  birds,  and  fishes. 

Knowing  all  the  roots,  and  berries. 

Favored  by  the  Wonder  Worker. 

Servant  of  the  gods  that  serve  Him. 
(Pause.) 

Speak! 

(Steps  back  into  the  dance.) 
Third  Assistant  Priest   (Stepping  out  of  the  dance)  : 

Reader  of  the  sudden  starlight, 

Flashing  fast  across  the  heavens, 

To  the  resting  place  of  spirits, 

To  the  home  of  souls  departed! 
(Pause.)  i 

Speak! 
(Steps  back  into  the  dance.) 

Fourth  Assistant  Priest  (Stepping  out  of  the  dance)  : 
Ix>!     The  bridge  of  little  star-light! 
Lo!    The  distant  summer  star-light! 
Lo!    The  Moon- time  of  traditions, 
Orders  thee  to  straight-way  tell  us, 
Of  the  Love-maid,  and  the  White  Chief. 
Of  the  time  she  lived  among  us, 
All  unseen  beside  the  lilies, 
Giving  love  to  all  our  people. 
How  the  Hate-Maid—Child  of  Evil- 
Came  and  won  the  White  Chief  from  hen 

(Pause.) 

Speak!    Oh  Speak! 

Omnes    (Pause.    All  stand) : 

Speak!     Oh  Speak! 
High  Priest      (Leaves   the   rock-throne,  followed  by   two   who 

carry  the  medicine-pouch,  and  strides  to  the  torture-stake; 

then,  with  solemn  ritualistic  attitude,  throws  the  contents  of 

the  pouch  upon  the  stake.)     (From  the  upper  stage  near  the 

stake) : 

After  long  and  weary  watching, 
To  this  blackened  stake  of  torture, 
Came  a  storm  of  awful  thunder, 
Crashing  redwoods  all  about  me, 

28 


Bending  tree-tops  low,  in  anguish. 
Flying  ashes  of  the  victims, 
Whirled  around  the  stake  in  circles, 
Forming  ghosts  of  those  who  suffered, 
From  the  flames  of  long  ago. 
(Pause.    Indians  murmur.} 

Yet  the  rain-god,  he  was  silent, 
Strange  and  awful  was  the  night-time, 
When  the  voice  of  one  departed, 
Came  and  told  to  me  this  story. 

(Pause.}     (Indians  again  murmur.}     (He  strides  to  lower  stage 
and  takes  his  place  on  the  Rock-Throne.} 

Through  the  grove,  all  gay  with  summer, 
Went  the  hunting  braves,  at  day-light, 
To  the  rushing  winding  river, 
Winding  wildly  to  the  ocean. 
Then  the  clear  air  of  the  morning, 
Showed  no  river-haze  obscuring. 
And  the  keen  eye  of  a  hunter 
Saw  the  thick  smoke  of  the  stranger 
Curling  heavy,  from  the  tree-tops, 
Showing  plainly  where  he  rested, 
Showing  he  had  little  wisdom. 

First  Assistant  Priest: 

You  are  sage,  O  Wonder-reader. 
For  the  thin  smoke  of  our  people, 
Shows  the  cunning  of  the  hunter. 

First  Guard: 

Good.    The  smoke  of  little  willows, 
Made  from  willows  that  are  sun-dried, 
Rises  like  the  summer  vapors 
That  are  blue  within  the  canyon. 
So  the  hawk  is  oft  mistaken. 

Second  Guard: 

And  the  eye  of  foolish  white  men 
Sees  but  blue  within  the  canyon. 

Second  Assistant  Priest: 

Speak,  O  Priest! 

29 


High  Priest: 

Then  the  hunters  started  circling, 

Coming  closer,  ever  closer, 

Like  the  eagle  when  he's  flying, 

Till  at  noon  they  came  upon  him. 

Then  they  paused,  and  looked,  and  wondered, 

For  the  picture  that  they  saw  there, 

They  had  never  seen  aforetime. 

(Music  theme  of  Fellowship.) 

He  was  manly,  strong  and  gentle; 
And  he  rested  there  in  sunlight, 
With  no  spoils  of  war  beside  him. 
Lo!  the  white  birds,  from  the  tree-tops, 
Flew  with  fellowship  about  him. 
They  were  flying  with  the  secrets, 
All  the  secrets  of  the  tree-tops. 
And  the  timid  ones  of  wood-land, 
They  were  fearless  in  their  playing, 
As  they  gamboled  all  about  him. 

(Pause.) 

Only  strife  of  little  insects 

Hurt  the  stillness  of  the  noon-time. 

(Music  theme  of  Fellowship  ceases.) 

All  of  this  they  saw  and  wondered, 
And  they  feared  to  fall  upon  him. 
They  were  faint  with  thought  of  slaying, 
For  he  seemed  a  god  of  nature. 
Yet  they  came  a  little  nearer, 
With  the  cunning  of  the  hunter. 
And  the  birds  flew  wild  with  warning. 
I  And  the  timid  ones  of  wood-land, 

Ran  with  fear  into  the  forest. 
But  he  took  no  heed  of  danger. 
And  bewildered,  he  was  captured. 

(Music  theme  of  Torture.) 

Then  they  drove,  and  dragged  him  footsore, 
To  this  grove,  and  there  they  lashed  him, 
To  this  stake  of  many  tortures. 
And  in  fury  flamed  the  faggots. 

30 


(Music  theme  of  Torture  ceases.) 

Lo!     The  faggots  would  not  burn  him! 
Lo!    The  knife  and  sharpened  spear-heads, 
Broke  and  blunted  when  they  hurled  them! 

(Music  theme  pf  the  Love-Woman.) 

Then  in  all  this  hate  and  fury, 
Came  the  Love-Maid  of  our  people, 
From  the  waters  that  were  splashing, 
Splashing  strongly  in  the  pool. 

She  the  Love-Maid  of  our  people, 

Who  had  lived  with  water  lilies, 

In  the  Holy  Pool  for  ages, 

Granting  love  to  all  our  people, 

Came,  in  human  form,  to  love  him, 

For  the  wrong  that  they  had  done  him. 

(Music  theme  ceases.) 

Then  they  knew  that  they  had  blundered 

And  in  haste,  put  out  the  fire. 

Love  had  entered  strong  the  white  man, 

For  her  light  was  all  about  him, 

As  they  called  him  to  the  rock-throne 

And  they  claimed  him  as  their  Chieftain, 

For  a  god  had  come  to  woo  him. 

(Music  theme  of  Hate.) 

But  alas!    The  Evil-Spirit 
Sent  a  hating,   lustful  woman 
To  the  grove,  to  fight  the  Love-Maid, 
And  to  win  the  white  man  from  her. 

Hate  did  win  and  Love  confounded, 
Fled  with  fright,  across  the  bridges. 
Up  the  trail,  her  black  hair  flowing 
Far  behind  her,  with  her  speeding. 
Then,  with  out-spread  arms,  she  vanished. 
(Pause.) 

Then,  with  wicked  spell,  the  Hate-one 
Danced,  and  lured  the  newborn  chieftain, 
From  his  worship  of  the  Love-Maid, 
From  his  Conscience — from  Control. 

31 


Then  the  Great-One  doomed  the  chieftain, 
Doomed  the  woman  who  had  won  him. 
Doomed  their  sons  to  come  thereafter, 
Doomed  them  all  to  Hate  and  Strife. 

(Pause — profound  silence,   broken   only   by   the   falling   water.} 

(Very  reverently.} 

This  the  story  of  the  Love-maid, 
From  the  voice  of  awful  thunder, 
From  the  voice  long  since  departed. 

(END  OF  CEREMONY  OF  THE  STAKE.) 

First  Guard: 

Our  chief  is  great. 
Third  Assistant  Priest: 

Great  in  strife.     He  is  the  child  of  the  doomed. 
Second  Assistant  Priest: 

Yet,  he  is  better  than  his  kind. 

I  have  seen  him  ill  at  ease  after  wrong. 

The  fault  lies  not  with  him,  but  with  his  fathers. 

High  Priest: 

You  speak  true.    Pray  that  love  come  to  him. 

Second  Guard  (With  pride.} 

Great  strength.  Eye  of  eagle.  Ear  of  deer. 
Nose  like  bear.  Cunning  as  fox.  Great 
war-man.  Our  chief  IS  great! 

Neophyte: 

Aye.    Great  lust! 

Second  Assistant  Priest: 

Alas,  the  seed  of  evil  holds  high  place! 

Neophyte: 

We  are  doomed.    No  flowers  grow.    I  grieve. 

High  Priest: 

Have  faith.    Hear  me. 

(He  bends  over  the  Holy  Pool,  making  a  few  mysterious  signs, 
and  then  in  a  voice  of  prophesy:) 

A  maid  will  come  with  power  of  pure  love. 
She  will  fight  a  Great-Hate  Chief.  She 
will  win  and  Hate  will  fly  from  him.  Then 

32 


will  the  Mighty-One  be  kind  and  send  back 
the  White  Chief's  Conscience.  Then  will 
the  Love-Woman  come  to  live  again,  with 
the  lilies  and  unseen  breed  love  among 
our  people.  Have  hope,  O  youth.  I  have 
spoken. 

Neophyte: 

How  will  Conscience  come? 

High  Priest: 

I  know  not  how.  By  man,  beast  or  bird. 
Therefore  kill  no  living  thing. 

Neophyte : 

Will  there  be  a  sign? 

High  Priest: 

When  sapling  springs  from  blackened  stump! 
Keep  watch. 

Neophyte     (Leaping  to  the  stake  and  keenly  looking}  : 

Alas,  there  is  no  sapling  here. 
(Despondently.} 

We  are  doomed! 

First  Assistant  Priest  (With  religious  fervor  and  uplifted 
arms)  : 

Lift  the  gloom,  O  Spirit  of  Light! 

Second  Assistant  Priest    (With  religious  fervor  and  uplifted 
arms)  : 

We  sorrow  for  Love,  O  Gentle-One! 

Third  Assistant  Priest: 

All  is  strife.  The  spear,  the  arrow,  the  war- 
axe  conquer.  Bring  peace,  O  Mighty-One! 
Bring  peace! 

High  Priest    (With  solemn  reverence)  : 

This  the  moon-time,  O  Mighty- Spirit! 
When  long  ago  a  wrong  was  done. 
See  how  the  redwoods  grieve  in  silence. 
Lift  now  the  doom,  O  Mighty-One! 

(lie  strides  over  to  the  Holy  Pool.  The  Love-Longing  Indians 
follow  and  all  arrange  themselves  for  the  Prayer  and  La 
ment.  In  this  the  pipes  play  a  major  part.) 

33 


(THE  PRAYER  AND  LAMENT.) 

Fifth  Priest: 

Pause  in  Thy  wonder-work,  O  Mighty  Spirit! 
Listen,  with  grace,  to  our  prayer  and  our  woe. 
Call  back  the  Love-Maid  who  fled  from  the 

forest; 
Affrighted  by  Hate  in  the  long,  long  ago. 

CHORUS  CHANT. 

Spring  up  O  Sun-god! 
Bounteous  Giver. 
Lord-of-the-love-tribe. 
Hear  our  prayer. 
Now  Mighty  Spirit! 
Out  of  the  waters, 
Call  back  the  Love-Maid. 
Stay  our  despair. 


Fifth  Priest: 


Welcome  the  swift  things  we  send  with  the 

message. 

The  wood-rat,  the  deer,  the  snake  and  the  bird. 
O  God  of  all  gods,  with  love  and  compassion, 
Give  to  the  White- Wing  Thy  wonderful  word. 


CHORUS  CHANT. 

O  great  River-god! 
O  most  Mighty  One! 
Wild  in  the  winter, 
Tame  in  the  Spring. 

High  Priest    (Exalted)  : 

Foam  fast  the  waters 
Into  the  Holy  Pool; 
Over  the  Sacred  Rock 
Loud  thundering! 


(Ensemble')  : 


O  God-of-sudden-dawn! 
Doomer  of  shadows, 
Maker-of-flaming-light, 
Lifting  the  gloom. 

34 


O  God-of-cloud-and-rain! 

Fall  on  the  tired  leaf! 

Sink  to  the  striving  root 

Make  flowers  bloom! 
(The  pipes  continue  to  play  low  and  the  Love-Longing  Indians 

are  silent.) 

(A  memory  of  the  Hate  theme  is  played.) 
(The  SECOND  CHIEF  enters.) 

Second  Chief  (Unnoticed  by  the  Love-Longing  Indians.  They 
are  in  prayer.  He  smiles,  calls  his  retinue  of  braves  upon 
the  stage,  about  six.  He  commands  them  to  silence  and 
points  to  the  religious  group.  He  looks  about  him  for  a 
stone,  finds  one,  and  points  to  it.  One  of  his  braves  hands  it 
to  him.  He  lobs  it  over  the  heads  of  the  devoted  Indians. 
It  falls  with  a  splash  into  the  Holy  Pool.  This  is  a  great 
sacrilege. ) 

{The  pipes  cease.  The  High  Priest  and  his  followers  start  to 
their  feet.) 

{With  false  concern  he  points  dramatically:) 

Look!     Look!     Beware  the  ripples! 

If  they  touch  a  sickness  comes  upon  you! 
(Those  at  the  pool's  edge  jump  back.    Pie  smiles  at  the  success 
of  this  trick.     Sarcastically:) 

Prayer  seems  to  blunt  your  bravery. 
(Some  look  ashamed.) 

Is  it  not  time  to  gather  acorns? 
First  Guard    (Angry  and  striding  up  to  him)  : 

Squaw  work! 
Second  Chief    (Innocently)  :    ^ 

Is  it? 
High  Priest    (In  anger  but  touched  with  fear)  : 

You  mock.    You  dare  to  splash  the  waters  1 

Second  Chief  (Walking  over  to  the  pool  and  looking  down  at 
it  and  pointing)  : 

You  looked  too  long  at  yourself.    I  saved  you 

from  the  sin  of  pride.    Thank  me, 
(Sarcastically.) 

O  Mighty  Priest! 
High  Priest: 

The  pool  is  holy  and — 

35 


Second  Chief: 

Holy?    Is  it  known? 
(Sarcastically.') 

O  wise  one! 
(Looking  again  at  the  pool.) 

Are  you  sure  it  is  holy?    It  looks  evil. 
First  Assistant  Priest: 

All  things  look  evil  to  you. 
Second  Chief: 

Do  they? 

(He  measured  the  depth  of  the  pool  with  his  spear.  This  is 
even  a  greater  sacrilige  and  the  Love-Longing  Indians  mur 
mur.  He  takes  no  notice  of  them,  but  looks  at  the  mark 
upon  the  spear  and  then,  with  feigned  surprise:) 

It   is   almost   dry!     A   shallow   home   for   the 

Love-Woman,  if  she  return. 
(Innocently.) 

Is  she  not  a  Water  Spirit? 
High  Priest      (In  alarm)  : 

Heed   him   not.     He   is   bad.     Love   will   re 
turn. 
Second  Chief'      (Ingratiatingly)  : 

How    long,    O    reader-of-the-stars,    since    the 

Love- Woman  fled? 
High  Priest       (Sorrowfully)  : 

Alas!    Three  tribes  ago! 
Second  Chief    (As  if  in  deep  thought.) 

Hm!  Three  tribes  ago? 

Hm!  A  long  time — 

A  long  flight — 
(With  surprise  and  some  admiration.) 

She  has  flown  to  the  end  of  the  world — 

If  she  fly  back,  it  will  not  be  in  our  time. 

A  pity.     I  am  sad. 

(Some  of  the  Love-Longing  Indians,  especially  the  two  Guards, 
look  up  suddenly.  This  is  a  new  idea  to:  them.  They  speak 
together  and  nod  their  heads.) 

36     ' 


(Seeing  this  out  of  the  corner  of  his  eye  and  noting  its  effect, 
he  continues,  slyly:} 

But  it  is  foolish  to  long  for  her! 
It  is  not  good  to  be  sad! 
Sadness  makes  the  blood  thick. 
(Several   more   of   the  Love-Longing  Indians  show  interest  in 

this   logic. } 
High  Priest   (Calls  in  fear  and  excitement.} 

Hear  him  not,  he  is  of  the  evil  spirit! 
Second  Chief   (Ignoring  this.) 

We,  who  follow  the  Great-Hate  Chief,  do  not 

long  for  her. 
We   live   well.     We   hunt.     We   do   not  pick 

berries. 
You  know,  O  High  Priest,  our  Chief  is  great! 

(The  High  Priest  does  not  answer.    The  Indians  murmur.} 

No?    Good,  I  will  tell  him.    It  will  please  him. 
He  is  so   calm.     You  know,   O   reader-of-the- 
stars,  our  Great  Chief  guards  our  sleep? 

(He  waits  for  an  answer.    The  Priests  and  Indians  are  silent.} 
He  is  victorious,  O  wise  one? 

(Silence.} 

Even  now,  he  fights  to  bring  the  spoils  of  war 
— the  cattle  and  women  of  our  foes.  Does 
he  not? 

(Silence.} 

O  Priest.  They  tell  me  you  are  the  Lord-of- 
the-love-tribe.  Will  you  take  this  pleasure 
from  our  chief? 

(Silence.} 

(Failing  to  trap  them  into  a  statement  against  the  Great-Hate 
Chief,  he  suddenly  changes  his  tone.} 

Come!    We  are  rich!    Leave  this  old  man. 
He  is  too  proud  of  himself. 
Hate  well  that  you  may  live  well. 
If  we  want  peace,  for  he  talks  of  nothing  but 
peace,  we  need  not  fight. 

37 


(Two  or  three  of  the  Love-Longing  Indians,  including  the  Guards, 
cross  over  to  his  side.  Others  from  the  upper  stage  do  like 
wise.  He  smiles.} 

Now,  you  show  sense. 
High  Priest      (With  great  concern  and  entreaty.} 

Oh,   foolish  ones!      No    peace   comes   from 

Strife, 

While  the  peace  of  love  is  everlasting! 
Second  Chief    (Imitating  him.} 

Oh,  foolish  one!     You  say  love  is  not  here. 
Where  then  is  your  peace?    Heed  him  not. 

High  Priest: 

That  we  may  live  well,  we  long  for  love. 

Second  Chief: 

That  we  may  live  well,  we  slay.    To  slay  well, 
we  hate.    From  the  eye  to  the  edge  of  the 
world   all   things   slay  to   live.     It  is  na 
ture's  law. 
(Imitating  him.} 

Be  natural,  O  my  people! 
High  Priest    (In  anger}  : 

With  you,  evil  one,  all  nature  dies  before  its 

time. 
Second  Chief: 

O  wise  Priest!     To  know  the  dying  time  of 

nature. 
(Commandingly.} 

Come,  waverers!  Leave  these  thin  prattlers. 
Stain  not  your  fingers  berry-picking,  but 
stain  them  in  foe's  blood. 

(Others  cross  over.} 

Welcome! 
(Confidentially.} 

Is  he  not  a  silly  old  man? 
High  Priest      (In  anxious  alarm}  : 

Return!  Oh  return!  He  leads  you  to  ruinf 
Oh  my  people,  come  back! 

38 


(In  anger  to  the  Second  Chief.') 

Beware,    O   evil-one-who-brings-out-the-bad, 
You  play  with  your  death.    The  Great  One 
is  angry! 

Second  Chief: 

Heat   not   your    blood,    old   man.     You   play 
with  your  death.     Be  careful.     You  may 
not  live  to  see  the  Love- Woman. 
High  Priest: 

Hear  me!    Without  love,  this  tribe  will  pass. 

The  trees,  our  gentle  gods  for  ages,  demand 
fellowship!  We  little  heed  the  lesson  of 
the  grove  and  all  is  gloom  and  grey. 
Roots  grow  weak  and  tree-tops  moan  with 
thirst  made  greater  by  the  little  mist 
drinks.  The  leaves  tire,  and  no  flowers 
bloom.  Love  has  fled,  and  thou,  slave  of 
evil,  art  watching  to  slay  the  good  within 
us.  I  pray  your  death  that  love  re  turn  I 

Second  Chief: 

Bah!  You  wield  no  weapon  but  your  tongue  1 
Be  silent,  like  a  squaw. 

Neophyte  (Exalted  by  the  High  Priest's  lesson  and  wild  with 
anger  at  this  insult,  he  draws  a  knife,  rushing  at  the  Second 
Chief)  : 

At  last  I  hate!    I  hate! 
Die,  Evil  One!    Die! 
(He  stabs.) 

Second  Chief  (Wards  off  the  blow  with  great  cease  and  with 
a  smile  seizes  the  knife.  Then,  still  smiling:) 

Love-longing  makes  thee  weak. 
(Starts  to  stab  the  helpless  Neophyte..) 
Runner    (Appears  on  upper  trail)  : 

Hail! 

(He  leaps  down,  over  the  bridges  and  stops,  rigid,  on  the  upper 
stage.} 

Comes  the  Hate  Chief!    Swift  as  pantherl 
From  the  land  of  war-like  people! 

39 


Bringing  spoils  of  bloody-battle 

After  long  and  heavy  fighting! 
(Pause.) 

Comes  the  Hate  Chief!     Swift  as  eagle! 

From  the  land  of  gentle  people. 

Bringing  maiden  who  is  captive 

To  his  craft  and  to  his  cunning. 
(He  runs  off.) 

(THE   COMING  OF  THE  GREAT-HATE  CHIEF) 

(The  Indians  gather  from  all  sides  and  arrange  themselves  on 
the  lower  and  upper  stage.  A  band  of  about  ten  war-men 
appears  on  the  upper  trail.  They  are  followed  by  the  captive 
maiden,  "Maiden-of-the-Gentle-People."  Her  hands  are  bound 
behind  her  back.  From  her  neck  a  rope  leads  loose  to  the 
neck  of  a  mustang  ridden  by  the  Great-Hate  Chief.  The 
maiden  shows  no  fear,  but  walks  with  pride,  indicating  that 
she  is  the  maiden  of  the  tradition.  When  the  Great-Hate 
Chief  appears,  followed  by  the  rest  of  his  retinue,  the  Indi 
ans  on  the  stage  break  into  the  chorus  — " Acclaim  and 
March.") 

(FIRST  PART) 

Hail!    Great-Hate  Chief!! 
He-who-fights-well. 
Fierce  foes  to  quell. 
Hear  our  war-yell.  GREAT  CHIEF!! 

Hail!     Great-Hate  Chief!! 
Who-lives-to-fight, 
Who-longs-to-smite, 
Brave  foes  to  flight.  HATE  CHIEF!! 


(SECOND  PART) 

Skilled  in  craft  of  war 

Wonder  warrior, 

Keen,  with  eagle-eye. 

Seeing  far  away, 

Foes  who  come  to  fight, 

Meet  his  arrow  shot.       GREAT  CHIEF!! 

40 


Swift  as  deer  in  flight, 

Ear  like  doe  with  fawn, 

Hearing  falling-leaf, 

Strong  as  redwood  tree. 

Fighting  with  his  might. 

Bringing  victory.  HATE   CHIEF!! 

(THIRD   PART} 

Hail!    Great-Hate  Chief!! 
He-who-hates  straight. 
His  axe  will  sate. 
War  man!!          GREAT  HATE  CHIEF!! 

(The  Chief  arrives  on  the  stage.  He  gives  a  sign.  A  brave — 
the  Silent  One — steps  out.  He  points  to  the  Maiden.  The 
brave  takes  the  rope  from  off  her  neck  and  cuts  the  thongs 
upon  her  •wrists.) 

(The  Second  Chief,  most  obsequiously,  holds  the  pony.  The 
Chief  dismounts.  The  mustang  is  led  off  the  stage.  The 
Chief  goes  to  the  throne.  He  beckons  the  maid  to  follow. 
She  obeys  slowly,  and  stands,  in  no  submissive  way,  at  his 
side. ) 

Great-Hate  Chief: 

Great  fight!    Well  won!    Dance!! 

(THE  WAR  DANCE.} 

(Same  theme  as  the  Acclaim,  but  in  dance  form.} 

(EXIT  the  dancers  in  mad  fury.} 

(On  the  stage  remain: 

THE  GREAT -HATE  CHIEF. 

THE  CAPTIVE  MAIDEN. 

THE  GUARD  OF  THE  GREAT-HATE  CHIEF. 

THE  SECOND  CHIEF. 

THE  HIGH  PRIEST  AND  HIS  ASSISTANTS.} 

Great-Hate  Chief       (On  the  throne.    Calls  a  brave)  : 

Guard  river  trail.    Watch  well. 
(EXIT  Brave.    He  \calls  another  brave.} 

Guard  trail  of  setting  sun.    Watch  well. 
(EXIT  Brave.    He  turns  to  High  Priest.) 

Priest,  watch  well  this  maiden.    Be  kind. 

41 


(7*  this  order  the  Priests  see  awakening  a  good  sign.     They 
speak  together.    The  Second  Chief  is  perturbed.) 

(Then,  to  the  remaining  retinue:) 

Come!    Follow  mel 
(EXIT,  followed  by  braves.) 

Second  Chief    (Touching  the  last  brave— -"Silent  One"— -detain 
ing  him;  pointing  to  the  maiden)  : 

Whence  comes  this  woman? 
The  Brave: 

From  Gentle  People. 
Land  of  rising  sun. 
Second  Chief: 

Two  days'  journey.    You  take  four.    You  travel 
slow.    Why? 

Silent  One: 

Great-Hate  Chief's  command.    She  young.    .   . 
trail  rough.    .    .    She  foot-tired.    Ask  no 
more. 
(Proudly.) 

I  follow  Great  Chief.    I  have  spoken. 
(EXIT.) 

Second  Chief: 

The  maiden  bringing  love!    It  is  not  good. 
(EXIT  in  deep  thought.) 

High  Priest      (To  Assistant  Priests)  : 

Go! 
(EXEUNT  Priests.) 

(Maiden  crosses  left  to  pool.    Goes  slowly  to  stake.    Makes  a 
few  medicine  signs.) 

High  Priest: 

O  Judge  of  Vengeance!  Give  sign.  Behold  the 
maiden.  Is  she  the  virgin  bringing  love 
to  the  Great-Hate  Chief,  that  he  may  know 
Control?  Is  she  the  soft  cloud  before  the 
sun?  Will  the  Great-Hate  Chief  take  her? 
Will  the  sun  shine  with  love  upon  us? 
(Silence.)  (Lookingly  keenly  at  base  of  tree-trunk.) 

No  sign!     No  sapling  grows! 

Then  speak,  O  soul  departed!! 

42 


{He  lifts  his  arms.    A  glow  takes  place  at  the  foot  of  the  Ireg 
stump.    Music.) 

A  Voice: 

When  virgin  love  shall  enter  him, 

Passion  then  begets  no  sin. 

Then  in  hollow  of  his  heart 

Conscience  comes  to  ne'er  depart 
High  Priest 

{Walking  slowly  down  to  the  stage  center  with  continuation  of 
musical  theme.    Lifts  his  arms  in  prayer.) 

O    God-of-the-tree-tops,    give    Love    to    my 

people. 
(Sings)  : 

Are  you  the  maiden  of  old  tradition, 
Bringing  the  grove  a  love-lighted  dawn? 
Sing    that    the    tree-tops   may    know    of    thy 

presence; 
Sing  that  a  Fellowship  love  may  be  born. 

II. 

Soft  gentle  maid,  like  a  deer  in  the  autumn, 
Be  fearless  and  brave  in  this  hate-shadowed 

place. 
Make    captive    our    Chief   by   your   wondrous 

beauty; 
Hold  him  a  slave  by  your  God-given  grace. 

III. 

Sing  to  the  heavens  a  full-throated  song, 
A  song  that  the  birds  will  echo  to  thee. 
Bring  all  the  sorrowing  life  of  the  forest 
Back  to  its  joy  with  a  love  melody. 

The  Maiden  of  the  Gentle  People 

(Sings)  : 

1* 

By  a  shady  tree,  and  a  running  brook, 
A  love  woman  gave  me  birth. 

43 


And  I  drank  strong  love  from  her  full  rich 

breasts, 
As  brown  as  the  breasts  of  earth. 


A  Tree-Top  From  the  Left  Side 

(Sings)  : 


The  wind  blows   soft  through  our  spreading 

leaves. 

Sing  on,  sweet  maid,  "The  Song  of  the  Trees." 
For  the  song  we  sing  to  the  stars  above, 
Is  the  song  of  a  perfect  fellowship  love. 


The  Maiden  of  the  Gentle  People 

(Sings)  : 

II. 


And  great  is  the  power  of  virgin  love, 
To  bring  a  brave  to  his  mate. 
So  I  will  fight  this  Great-Hate  Chief, 
And  win  him  from  his  hate. 


A  Tree-Top  From  the  Right  Side 

(Sings') : 

II. 


Soft  is  the  tread  of  your  foot  on  the  leaves. 
Sing  on,  sweet  maid,  "The  Song  of  the  Trees." 
Bring   fellowship   love   that   the  flowers   may 

bloom, 
For  without  love  they  grieve  in  the  gloom. 


The  Maiden  of  the  Gentle  People 

(Sings)  : 

III. 


And  he  shall  have  my  power  of  love, 

And  all  my  weakness  too. 

And  he  will  worship  wonder  things, 

As  all  true  lovers  do. 

Then  love  will  breed  sweet  fellowship, 

And  the  trees  will  sing  their  song. 

44 


And  the  Grove  will  worship  at  your  feet, 
From  evenfall  till  dawn. 

The  Tree-Tops  of  the  "Three  Graces" 

Sweet  is  your  song  of  love  to  our  leaves. 
Sing  on,  sweet  maid,  "The  Song  of  the  Trees." 
Sing  that  the  Grove  by  the  sun-god  be  kissed; 
Sing  that  the  weary  leaves  sleep  in  the  mist. 
(Ensemble  of  Tree  Tops.} 

(After  this  trio,  the  High  Priest,  in  a  fatherly  and  reverent  man 
ner,  leads  the  Maiden-of-the-Gentle-People  from  the  stage, 
right.} 

(The  Great-Hate  Chief  and  the  Second  Chief  ENTER,  left. 
They  watch  the  EXIT  of  the  Maiden-of-the-Gentle-People, 
with  very  different  sensations;  the  Great-Hate  Chief,  with 
awakening  love;  the  Second  Chief,  with  hate  and  resent 
ment.) 

Second  Chief    (With  the  utmost  consideration}  : 

What  fights  you,  great  Chief,  greater  than  all 
others? 

Great-Hate  Chief       (With  deep  concern)  : 

I  know  not  where  I  go.  I  rush  on  like  winter 
river.  I  rest  not  my  mind. 

Second  Chief    (With  affectionate  anxiety)  : 

Rest  your  body.  You  traveled  too  fast  upon 
the  trail. 

(Sneeringly.) 

O  swift  one! 

Great-Hate  Chief: 

No.    The  maiden  wearied.    I  went  slow. 

Second  Chief    (With  solicitation)  : 

Then  you  fight  too  long,  and  are  weary.  Sun 
rise  will  see  you  again  the  Great-Hate 
Chief. 

(Watching  him  narrowly.) 

45 


Great-Hate  Chief       (Ashamed)  : 

"Hate  Chief."  I  like  not  the  name.  It 
sounds  evil  to  me. 

Second  Chief    (With  great  pride  of  him)  : 

It  is  evil,  to  others.  All  fear  you,  O  mighty 
warman! 

Great-Hate  Chief 

(Pauses.     Then  starts  up  and  strides  the  stage")  : 

This  maiden.  Her  land  but  a  swift  two  days' 
journey.  All  peace,  rushing  water  and  ris 
ing  sun.  Her  people  do  not  fight.  They 
do  not  hate.  There  is  no  strife.  Their 
seasons  are  the  same.  Seel  This  grove 
is  in  gloom.  No  flowers  grow.  Why  is 
this? 

Second  Chief        (With  solicitude): 

We  are  a  tree-tribe.  The  sun  is  little  in  the 
trees.  Rest  now.  Think  later. 

Great-Hate  Chief: 

The  Great  One  is  angry  with  my  people. 

(He  continues  his  restless  stride.    Pauses.    Then  suddenly:) 

Or,  is  it  I? 
Second  Chief    (Interrupting  him  quickly) : 

No!    Not  you,   mighty   Chief!    Command  me 
and   I  will  lay  waste  this  maiden's  land. 
Then  think  no  more  of  it. 
(Lights   lower.) 

Great-Hate  Chief: 

See,   the   forest  gloom   deepens! 

Second  Chief    (Soothingly)  : 

A  cloud  passes.  Oh  rest,  eagle,  rest.  Think 
no  more  of  this. 

Great-Hate  Chief    (Still  harping  on  the  maiden.    He  sits  on  the 
side  of  the  throne)  : 

She  has  sorrow  for  her  people.  She  has 
spoken. 

46 


Second  Chief    (Off  his  guard  for  a  moment  and  somewhat  im 
patiently}  : 

She  will  soon  forget.    It  is  their  way. 
Great-Hate  Chief       (In  sudden  anger)  : 

Speak  no  evil  of  her. 

Second  Chief  (Recovering  himself.  Combination  of  fawning 
and  reproach)  : 

I  speak  no  evil.     To  forget  is  the  gift  of  the 

gods.    The  wound  remains  not  open. 
Great-Hate  Chief       (In  deep  melancholy)  : 

She  is  like  the  sun.     When  I  look  at  her,  I 
pray  in  my  mind.     Is  the  Great  One  call 
ing  me  to  the  things  he  makes  beautiful? 
I  conquer.     The  pride  of  war  is  mine,  yet 
I  sorrow.     Why?     I  am  punished. 
"O  Mighty  Spirit,  lift  now  this  burden." 
What  burden?     I  know  not.    .    .    .Something 
fights  me.     I  have  spoken. 

(He  sits  again  and  gazes  into  the  pool  with  deep  despondency.') 

(The  Second  Chief  is  at  a  loss.  He  gazes  at  the  Great-Hate 
Chief  with  most  villainous  hate.  He  is  about  to  give  the 
matter  up  as  hopeless,  when  "Silent  One"  crosses  the  stage 
from  left  to  right  and  EXIT.  This  gives  Second  Chief  a 
new  idea.  He  smiles.) 

Second  Chief    (With  great  conviction): 

The  maid  is  beautiful. 
Great-Hate  Chief: 

She  has  star-light  beauty!     She  is  fawn-eyed! 
Second  Chief: 

Good.     She  is  your  war-prize.     Take  her,   O 

Chief. 
(Looking  off  stage,  right.     Innocently:) 

Where  goes  "Silent  One"? 
Great-Hate  Chief: 

I  know  not.    I  care  not. 
Second  Chief    (Watching  him  very  keenly)  : 
Great-Hate  Chief       (Looks  quickly  up,  but  saying  no  word.) 

It  was  he  who  told  me  she  was  beautiful. 

47 


Second  Chief    (Pretending  not  to  notice  this  and  quite  casually)  : 
He   spoke   long   of   her.     Like   you,    O    Chief, 
but  not  so  well.     He  did  not  think  of— 
(Pause.     Watching  him.) 

"Star-light  beauty,"  but  he  spoke  long  and  well. 

Strange.     He  is  called  "Silent  One." 
(Looking  off.) 

Where  goes  he,  I  wonder? 

Great-Hate  Chief     (Looking  at  Second  Chief,  his  face  hard  set)  : 
I  know  not. 

(Pause.    Growing  anger.) 

You  say  he  spoke  of  her? 

Second  Chief    (Casually)  : 

A  long  time.    He  told  me  he  was  happy,  for  she 

smiled  upon  him. 
Great-Hate  Chief 

Go  on! 

(Hand  on  knife)  : 
Second  Chief: 

I   told   him   she   was   your  war-prize,   but   he 
smiled. 

Great-Hate  Chief  (Drawing    his    knife    and   with    sudden, 

panther-like  spring)  : 

Bring  him!     Bring  him  to  me! 

Second  Chief    (At  once  changing  his  tone  to  hate)  : 

No!      Not    him,    but   her.      Take    her    now. 
She  is  not  for  a  brave.     Be  quick.    Be  not 
blind.    Kill  him  at  sunrise.    Take  her  now. 
Great-Hate  Chief       (Calling  off,  in  wild  rage)  : 

Ho! 
(A  brave  comes  running.) 

Bring  the  maiden! 
(The  brave  runs  off.) 
Second  Chief    (Exultant)  : 

O  panther!  Kill  him  at  sunrise.    Take  her  now! 

48 


(The  maiden  is  brought  on  by  the  brave,  followed  by  the  High 
Priest  and  his  retinue.  The  Indians  crowd  the  stage. 
"Silent  One"  ENTERS  with  them.) 

Great-Hate  Chief       (Pointing  to  "Silent  One"}  : 

Guard  him.     Go  kill  him  at  sunrise. 
(The  braves  take  "Silent  One"  o_ff  the  stage.     He  is  amazed.) 

Second  Chief  (Roughly  brings  The  Maiden-of-the-Gentle- 
People  to  the  Great-Hate  Chief)  : 

War-Prize.     O    Mighty   Chief. 
High  Priest     ( With  understanding)  : 

Thou  plotter  of  mischief! 

(The  Maiden  stands  fearless.  The  High  Priest  steps  forward 
to  protect  her.  All  seems  lost.  It  is  a  villainous  moment. 
The  trees  moan.  The  musical  theme  of  Hate  is  heard.  The 
Maiden  lifts  her  arms  in  prayer.) 

Great-Hate  Chief       ( With  scorn  and  anger)  : 

Bind  her. 
(This  is  done.) 

Two-faced  squaw,  I 

(The  call  'of  the  river-guard  is  heard  afar  off.  It  is  repeated 
by  the  guard  of  the  rising-sun  trail.  All  the  stage  is  sud 
denly  tense  with  listening.  The  Great-Hate  Chief  makes  a 
sign.  A  young  brave  steps  out  and  gives  the  answering 
call.  All  listen.  It  is  answered.) 

Great-Hate  Chief: 

Pale  face! 

(The  whole  tribe  scurry  to  cover.  They  ambush  to  the  right,  to 
the  left,  up  the  trail  and  behind  trees.  The  Great-Hate  Chief 
takes  the  Maiden  with  him.  The  scene  is  alone.) 

(The  orchestra  plays  the  theme  -of  "Throbbing  Hate."  A  light 
falls  upon  the  blackened  stake.  Above  the  theme  "Of  Throb 
bing  Hate"  comes  the  theme  of  the  Water  Spirits.  Out  from 
the  waters  the  spirits  come.  Some  from  the  high  water 
fall,  others  from  the  middle  waters,  others  from  the  Holy 
Pool.  They  tumble  down  and  dance  a  gladsome  beckoning 
dance.  They  beckon  "The  Dreamer"  They — the  Water 
Spirits — fade  away,  at  the  end  of  their  dance,  into  the  waters. 
During  this  dance,  a  sapling  grows  from  the  blackened  trunk 
of  torture.) 

(On  the  stage  comes  "The  Dreamer"  and  the  three  companion 
Woodmen.) 

49 


(The  Dreamer  gases,  in  rapt  adoration,  at  the  Grove,  the  Sacred 
Rock,  the  water-fall  and  the  great  trees.  The  Woodmen 
stand,  in  a  group,  right.  It  is  easily  seen  that  they  are  in 
anger.} 

("The  Dreamer"  stands  (left)  as  if  in  a  trance.) 
First  Woodsman     (To  the  others)  : 

I'll  go  no  further.     I'm  tired  of  this  aimless 

march. 
Second   Woodsman  (To  the  others) : 

And  I!   Do  we  seek  gold? 
Third  Woodsman      (To  the  others)  : 

I  know  not,  but  it's  time  to  ask. 
Second  Woodsman    (To  the  others)  : 

If  it  be  gold,  is  it  a  certain  find? 
Third  Woodsman       (Impatiently)  : 

I  know  not! 
(Pointing  to  the  Dreamer.) 

He  has  been  silent  too  long. 

Second  Woodsman: 

We  have  crossed  fast-growing  lands,  where  all 
was  sunlight  and  rest. 

He  took  no  heed  of  them. 

Now  he  waits  in  this  forest  gloom. 

What  is  he  after? 
(To  the  Dreamer.) 

Hear  us.    Where  go  we?    What  do  you  seek? 

We  will  go  no  further  unless  we  know. 

The  Dreamer: 

Take  heart.  Hear  my  dream.  My  wonder 
dream.  I  saw  within  a  grove  of  silent 
trees,  a  man.  Great  was  his  glory,  for  he 
was  Self-denial.  It  was  night,  and  the 
moonlight  sheen  gave  light  to  guard  the 
sleep  of  Nature.  The  smoke  of  his  fire 
filled  the  air  with  phantoms,  and  the  sparks 
were  as  little  stars  flying  to  their  brothers 
in  the  sky. 

50 


Suddenly  all  went  evil.  The  man  laughed  and 
cried  aloud,  "I  care  not,  I  have  yet  my 
senses  to  satify." 

Then  the  voice  of  a  Presence  said,  "Let  evil 
own  thee.  Let  thy  unbridled  senses  sway 
thee.  Let  beauty  shun  thee.  Hear  not  the 
song  of  the  birds.  Thou  and  thy  race  shall 
live  in  gloom  and  they  shall  hate  and  be 
hated,  until  one,  made  perfect  by  a  virgin 
love,  shall  cry  aloud,  *O  Mighty  Spirit, 
lift  now  this  burden.'  Then  will  I  make  a 
dream  and  give  the  dreamer  thy  Con 
science,  that  thou  hast  thrown  away,  and 
he  will  arise  and  go  forth,  seeking  this  one 
made  pure  by  love." 

Such  was  my  dream.  I  am  the  Dreamer.  I  am 
the  bearer  of  the  Conscience.  My  journey 
is  nearly  over;  my  duty  nearly  ended.  I 
seek  the  son,  making  him  a  god! 

(The  Woodsmen  straightway  fall  into  great  anger.) 

First  Woodsman:      (In  raging  amazement}  : 
A  dream! 

Second  Woodsman: 

Footsore,  and  half -starved  for  a  dream! 
Parched  on  the  plains,  for  a  dream! 

Third  Woodsman: 

Mountain,  flood  and  danger  for  a  dream. 
We  have  been  fooled. 

First  Woodsman 

(Suddenly  struck  with  great  fear  and  looking  back.) 
Shall  we  suffer  the  same  for  a  dream?    No! 

(With  murderous  look,  grasps  at  his  hunting  knife.) 

The  Dreamer      (Without  fear)  : 
I  have  answered. 

Second  Woodsman: 

We  will  go  no  further. 

51 


The  Dreamer: 

Then  leave  me. 
First  Woodsman: 

Aye!  We  WILL  leave  you,  and  may  you  die  in 
a  dream!     Come. 

(They  start  to  go,  right.  Immediately  after  their  exit,  a  flight 
f>f  arrows  flies  from  every  thicket  on  the  hill  A  cry  (off 
stage}  proclaims  their  death.} 

The  Indians  Hood  the  stage  from  all  sides  and  lay  hands  upon 
the  Dreamer. 

STAGE  PICTURE. 

Well  down  left  a  group  of  Indians  (Chorus).  Well  down  right 
another  group  of  Indians  of  the  Love-Longing  type  (Chorus). 

The  Great-Hate  Chief  stands  near  the  approach  to  the  Rock 
Throne;  the  Maiden  by  his  side — she  is  bound  at  her  wrists. 
The  Second  Chief  to  the  left  of  the  Great-Hate  Chief — or  at  least 
near  him.  The  Dreamer  is  in  the  center  of  the  stage,  some  way 
back,  and  Indians  are  on  either  side  of  him.  Somewhat  higher 
than  he,  and  on  the  incline  to  the  second  stage,  the  High  Priest 
stands;  and  above  him,  and  to  the  right  of  the  Dreamer  stands 
the  Neophyte.  On  the  second  stage,  but  well  right,  the  Indians 
are  bringing  faggots  to  the  torture  stump.  In  other  words,  the 
prologue  seems  about  to  be  re-enacted. 


THE  ACTION 

The  Indians  start  to  drag  the  Dreamer  towards  the  torture 
stake. 

High  Priest   (Lifting  his  hand}  : 

Hold!  This  man  lives!     Some  power  held  the 
fatal  arrow. 

(Pointing  right.} 

Yet   swift   sped   death   to    the    Redman's   foe. 
It  is  the  moon-time  of  the  soul  departed. 
Beware! 

(The  Indians  hesitate  and  turn  to  the  Great-Hate  Chief.    He  also 
hesitates  with  superstitious  fear.) 

Second  Chief    (He  almost  whispers  to  the  Great-Hate  Chief}  : 
Slay  him.    This  is  foolish  talk. 

52 


(The  Indians  show  impatience  at  this  delay.     Aloud:) 
See  how  your  people  rage. 

Great-Hate  Chief  (Gives  a  hopeless,  uncertain  fling  of  his  arms 
toward  the  stake.} 

(The  Indians  again  start  to  drag  the  Dreamer  toward  the  stake.} 
The  Dreamer    (With  fearless  dignity.     In  a  calm  voice}  : 
You  know  I  come  here  for  your  good. 

(The  Neophyte,  hearing  this,  runs  tip  to  the  second  stage  and 
looks  astonished.  The  sapling  is  there.) 

Second  Chief    (Beside  himself)  : 

Hear  him  not.    This  tribe  will  be  lost. 

(Turning  to  the  Indians  and  taking  command.) 
Light  the  faggots. 

(The  Indians  rush  to  the  Dreamer  and  the  Indians  on  the 
second  stage  move  towards  the  stake  with  the  faggots. 
The  Neophyte  makes  a  move  to  guard  the  stake.  Second 
Chief  crosses  left.) 

Great-Hate  Chief:   No! 

(Pause.) 

Wait. 

(Throwing  the  Second  Chief  to  the  ground.  Turning  to  the 
Dreamer.) 

High  Priest      (Pointing  to  the  Maiden-of-the-Gentle-People)  : 
Behold  the  maiden,  in  the  grove. 
Love  has  entered  your  heart  and  made  a  home 
for  Conscience.    Now,  art  thou  the  Great- 
Love  Chief. 

Neophyte  (Calls  aloud)  : 

See!    See!    A  sapling  grows. 

(All  gaze  in  awe.  He  runs  down  to  the  Dreamer  and  bends 
low  in  reverence.) 

Second  Chief  (Seeing  all  is  lost,  draws  his  dagger  and  rushes 
at  the  Dreamer.) 

Neophyte  (Wards  off  the  blow  and  kills  the  Second  Chief,  who 
falls  at  the  feet  of  the  Dreamer)  : 
Evil  is  dead! 

53 


High  Priest    (Looking  up  the  hill.     The  Love-Woman  appears}  : 
Behold  the  Love- Woman! 
Praise  her,  O  my  People! 

(The  Love-Woman  enters.  She  descends  the  trail.  The  waters 
of  the  water-fall  burst  out  in  volume.  The  -flowers  spring 
up  at  her  feet.  All  is  radiant  light  around  her.  The  Water- 
Women  leap  from  the  stream  and  make  her  train.  With 
every  step  she  dispels  the  forest  gloom.  The  Great  Chief 
starts  up  the  hill  to  meet  her,  by  his  side  the  Maiden-of-the- 
Gentle-People.  They  are  in  a  trance  of  love,  and  the  flowers 
'grow  and  make  a  ivay  for  them.  The  waters  flow  freely  over 
the  rocks.  The  Indians  look  on  in  amazement,  while  they 
sing  their  acclaim.  When  the  Chief  and  the  Maiden  come 
to  the  Love-Woman,  she  vanishes.  She  has  gone  to  live 
again  in  the  Holy  Pool  and  grant  love  to  the  Grove. 

The  Chief,  now  the  Great-Love  Chief,  turns  to  the  Maiden- 
of-the-Gentle-People,  takes  her  in  his  arms  and  gives  her  the 
pure  kiss  of  love.  Then  do  the  waters  rush  over  the  Sacred 
Rock  and  splash,  in  torrent,  into  the  Holy  Paol.  Then  is 
the  forest  far  more  brilliant  in  its  light  than  before  the  com 
ing  of  Hate.  Then  dawn  appears  and  the  forest  is  illumined.} 


54 


SYNOPSIS  OF  THE  MUSIC 

The  prelude  to  the  Forest  Play  "Nec-Natama"  introduces  sev 
eral  of  the  motifs  of  the  Prologue.  Commencing  with  four  bars 
of  the  Torture  Theme,  given  out  by  the  wood  -wind,  in  chromatic 
triplets  and  accompanied  by  strident  chords  on  the  strings;  it 
lifts  directly  into  the  Fellowship  motif  into  which  the  Love  Theme 
is  interwoven  later. 

The  first  number  in  the  Prologue  is  the  Torture  Dance.  The 
principal  melody  of  this  is  played  by  oboes  and  clarinets,  to  which 
the  trumpets,  muted,  add  effect. 


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77»*  second  theme,  the  Fellowship  Theme,  is  the  principal  motif 
of  the  play.  The  first  ten  measures  is  given  to  the  flutes  and 
oboes  and  the  theme  is  afterwards  taken  up  by  the  violins  and 
cellos  and  finally  worked  up  into  a  grand  crescendo  by  the  full 
orchestra. 


i      /      !» 

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! 

55 


The  Fellowship  Theme  is  interrupted  by  the  Torture  Theme, 
played  as  in  the  prelude. 


(  — 

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j 

I 

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77ir  Torture  Dance  is  heard  again,  this  time  played  in  a  more 
forceful  manner  by  the  cornets  and  trombones,  muted,  and  then 
almost  directly  begins  the  Love  Theme  which,  with  the  Fellow 
ship  Theme,  is  predominant  throughout  the  play.  This  theme 
is  played  at  first  by  the  "iolins  and  cellos  and  later  made  broader 
by  the  addition  of  the  wood  wind  choir  and  brass.  The  harp  is 
also  prominent  in  the  rendition  of  tiiis  theme. 


<^vi- 


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when  the  Love  Theme  appears  to  be  nearing  a  triumphant 
clima.r  it  is  interrupted  by  the  Hate  Theme,  played  first  by  the 
French  horns  in  unison  and  later  by  the  full  brass  contingent, 
punctuated  by  an  occasional  crash  on  the  cymbal. 


0    , 


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56 


The  play  proper  commences  with  twenty-two  bars  of  the  Love 
Theme  played  by  the  full  orchestra.  As  this  theme  diminuendoes 
it  is  taken  up  by  the  violins  and  becomes  the  introduction  to  the 
Grove  Song.  In  this  Grove  Song  the  Fellowship  Theme  is  used 
as  a  counter-melody. 

f^ff    " 


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The  Prayer  and  Lament  is  written  for  tenor  and  chorus,  part 
of  which  is  sung  "a  capello"  and  later  accompanied  by  a  full 
Orchestra. 


The  Ceremony  of  the  Stake  is  an  Indian  melody,  rendered  by 
the  English  horn,  clarionets  and  bassoons  with  an  accompaniment 
of  cellos  and  basses  pizzicatoy  tympanis  and  drums. 


57 


The  Dance  of  the  Water  Spirits  opens  with  a  cadenza  for 
•flutes  with  accompaniment  for  harp.  The  first  half  of  the  dance 
is  played  entirely  by  the  wood  wind,  principally  flutes,  and  accom 
panied  by  the  harp  and  strings  pizzicato.  As  the  dance  pro 
gresses  a  solo-horn  joins  in  the  melody  with  a  counter  rhythm 
by  the  violins.  The  second  half  is  a  legato  melody  for  cellos  and 
English  horn. 


. 


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58 


The  Great  Hate  Chiefs  march  scored  f.f.  for  full  orchestra. 


The  play  concludes  with  the  Love  Theme,  this  time  uninter 
rupted  by  the  Hate  Theme.  It  is  brought  to  a  triumphant  end 
by  full  orchestra  with  triumphant  chords. 


/m, 


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4 

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59 


OCT     3  «7J 


0  ,. 

FORN\NO.DD6,60m, 


VC   168/5 


U.C.BERKELEY  LIBRARIES 


£77591 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


